


Compulsion and Addiction

by helens78, Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels)



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Consensual Mind Control, Established Relationship, M/M, Mind Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-26
Updated: 2005-05-26
Packaged: 2017-11-04 13:48:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/394566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kronos wants something early in the morning, and he's not afraid to give Methos a nudge here and there in order to get it.  Methos doesn't mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compulsion and Addiction

It's not even daylight yet. Kronos is awake, but that really shouldn't be a surprise; he took a head last night. He's still lit up from the quickening, and despite nearly a full night's sleep with Methos comfortably pinned under him, he's still restless and eager.

He climbs up on Methos's back, slides his hands down his arms. "Wake up," he murmurs. "Need you."

Methos wakes up quickly, but relaxes when he realizes that it's only Kronos. "When don't you?" He'd bet three slaves that Kronos is already hard.

Kronos laughs softly, whisper against Methos's ear, and he rubs up, cock pressing into Methos's thigh. "I always need you, brother. You're right about that." He nibbles on Methos's shoulder, tightens his grip on his wrists. "I can still feel it. The quickening. Can you feel it when I'm touching you?" He sinks his teeth in a little harder; he could almost believe he feels the lightning in Methos's blood coming up to meet his teeth, to heal the injury before it's made. "I can."

Methos shudders beneath Kronos and groans. "Yes, brother. I can feel it." He's never sure if it's his blood or something inherent to the quickening itself that makes him feel like this when Kronos touches him. It's as if all he is rushes towards Kronos' fingers, or Kronos' tongue, or Kronos' teeth. It always leaves him lightheaded.

"Open for me." Kronos licks the bite, moves over to the back of Methos's neck and nibbles at the skin there. There's a moment's quiet, and then he backs it up with the thread of Voice he learned from a seer some years back. "//Let me in, brother.//" Simple. Easy. There's something soothing about not having to ask, about knowing the answer's yes and being able to use that thread of Voice to cut through whatever ego or worries or fears might get in the way of Methos letting his guard down enough to agree.

_Yes._ Kronos' voice cuts through everything and Methos spreads his legs before he realizes what he's doing. He whimpers. "I love when you do that," he whispers and pushes his hips up off the bed. "Please, brother."

Kronos pulls back just far enough to get his cock slick with spit, and then he's working his way in. It's not easy, but he doesn't want it to be. He likes the friction, the stretch and burn and the way it's _so_ satisfying when Methos finally has all of him. "Good," he whispers, "//open up for me, show me how much you want this.//" Halfway there now, he stops, waiting for Methos to adjust, press back against him.

It burns, but Methos can feel himself healing even as Kronos pushes forward. It's nothing he hasn't felt a thousand times and it's nothing that he doesn't crave. He wants it. He needs it. He pushes back against Kronos, biting back the scream.

Good. So good. Perfect. Kronos bares his teeth and sinks all the way in, panting softly as he finds his way there. He can feel the way Methos is holding back his sounds, and there's no reason for it; it's not as though anyone would dare disturb the two of them, not this early in the morning. "Don't fight it," Kronos murmurs. "I know it hurts, Methos. Go on. //Don't hold anything back. Scream for me.//"

Methos' scream overlaps the end of the order. "KRONOS!" It'll wake the camp, but he doesn't care. Kronos told him not to hold back and so he doesn't. He moves under Kronos, hard and fast. He's inviting him in, not fighting him off, and he knows that Kronos understands.

"Perfect," Kronos snarls, reaching around, rubbing his fingers over the front of Methos's neck. Perfect's not the half of it. Perfect. Gorgeous. " _Mine._ " Kronos snarls it, pounds in deeper, and scratches lightly over Methos's throat. "//Get your hands in front of you. Dig them into the coverlet.//" He wants the option of having both hands free, of having Methos hold himself down instead of having to do it for him.

Methos' nails rip into the blanket when he grips, then he nods, swallowing hard. This is going to be so good, better than it is. Methos arches his head to the side, giving Kronos more skin to hurt. His neck. Giving his brother his neck. _Take me._

But it's not enough. It's not enough just to have Methos give control over; Kronos always seems to need to take it. He squeezes Methos's neck, just a little tighter than ought to be comfortable, and slows the pace of his thrusts. "You always give so much," Kronos murmurs, "and there's always so much more you _can_ give. //Tell me how this feels.// Tell me what it's like."

It hurts to talk, but that doesn't stop Methos. Kronos gave him the order and there's no possible way for Methos to say no. That's what he loves about this. He would never say no, but now there's no chance of it. He's being forced to do what he would already have begged to do. "Hurts, hurts so fucking much, but it's so good, I'm so hard for you, Kronos, and it's making me harder and harder and please brother give me what I need please it feels fantastic feeling fucking brilliant please!"

"Shhh." Kronos grins, scratches across Methos's throat again. "Good," he whispers, "perfect," and another scratch, " _mine_." Then it's a half-dozen thrusts before he speaks again, and he bends his head down to bite at Methos's shoulder again. "//Push up. I want you on your hands and knees, driving yourself back against me.//" He gives Methos just enough room to do it.

If there hadn't been enough room, Methos would have taken it. He pushes up, fucking himself on Kronos' cock, and gets up on his hands and knees. He isn't thinking about his cock, but he hopes that Kronos is.

Not quite yet he's not. Kronos gets lazy sometimes; he knows full well all he has to do is say _//Come//_ and that'll be that. Worse are the times when he says _// Don't come//_ and pays more attention to Methos's cock than Methos could have dreamed of asking for. Right now he's just sliding his hands over Methos's body, running his hands over Methos's shoulders, his back, grabbing onto his hips and tugging back with all the thrusts. "You feel so good," he growls.

"So do you." Methos closes his eyes. His blood feels like it's on fire. All Kronos needs to do is touch him and he burns. "Please, brother, don't tease." No one else, Methos knows, would consider a fucking like this a tease, but Methos knows what Kronos is capable of. He wants more.

Kronos laughs. "Don't tempt me," he murmurs. "I can do worse than tease. //What is it you really want, brother? If you want something... ask me for it.//"

"Knives," Methos answers immediately. He looks towards where his ceremonial dagger sticks out from the center post of the tent. "You know how I like it, brother, please."

"I know," Kronos murmurs. He pulls out abruptly, shoves Methos down into the bedding. "//Roll over. On your back. Keep your legs spread.//" And he goes to the post to grab for the dagger.

Methos rolls over and spreads his legs as far apart as he can. His wrists are turned painfully, but he can take it. From the look in Kronos' eye, he's going to be taking a lot more. _Thank you, brother._

When Kronos gets back, he shakes his head at the position of Methos's wrists and gets a leather strap. "//Let them go loose for me. I'm going to tie them.//" He straddles Methos's chest as he does it, glancing down. "//And no taking liberties,//" he adds, tying Methos's wrists tight.

"Yes, brother." Liberties? What liberties? Methos lets Kronos tie him down, then tries to lean up enough to offer Kronos his lips.

"No." Kronos climbs off Methos's chest, rubbing a thumb over his lips. "When I want your mouth, I'll tell you." He kneels between Methos's legs, in sight but out of reach, and gets an oiled piece of leather to clean his knife with.

"Yes, brother." Methos hopes it's soon. He can't take his eyes away from the motions of Kronos' hand on his knife. The tease. There's no reason to clean it except for aesthetics.

Well, that and to make sure there aren't any splinters from the post. Splinters might not be fatal, but they're itchy in all the wrong ways, especially when one's making cuts in a lover's chest and licking along those cuts afterwards.

But Kronos finishes with the cleaning and glides the flat of the blade up Methos's chest. "How much do you want it?" he murmurs, and remembering how much Methos likes it when it's backed up with Voice, repeats, "//How much?//"

The voice goes straight to Methos' cock and he moans before he can answer. "All of it, short of...fuck, even death. I want it, brother. I want _you_."

"I know," Kronos says, tiny smile around the corners of his mouth, and he twists the knife in his hand, digs the point in just under a nipple and drags it down. The cut's precise, even, not what Kronos's enemies would expect but nothing less than Methos would demand. "Mine. As much as I'm yours."

Methos arches up against the knife and groans. There is nothing like pain. "Yours," he says. "Yours and mine."

"//Still,//" Kronos whispers. He drags the flat of the blade through the thin trickle of blood left behind, then makes another cut just beneath the first. "//Stay still while I'm cutting you, brother. You deserve the best. No mistakes, no ragged edges. Just the pain. Pure and simple.//"

Methos goes still, but he doesn't hold back his screams. He knows Kronos wants to hear him. No mistakes, just pain. And he'll watch it all.

When there's a neat, intricate pattern cut just below Methos's right nipple, Kronos bends forward, setting the knife down at his side. "//Move now,//" he murmurs, just before he takes the first lick. Bloodstained, he whispers, "//Show me how much you want this.//"

Methos nods, then jerks at the first lick. The skin is mostly healed, but it's still tender, and Kronos' tongue looks so damn good against his skin.

And the taste of Methos's blood is intoxicating. It's so good having Methos under his tongue, under his hands and his body and his Voice. "Beautiful," Kronos murmurs.

Methos grins. "I know," he murmurs.

Kronos moves up into position again, ready to go back to fucking Methos now that the taste of blood's been at least partly satisfied. "//Ask me for it,//" he whispers.

Methos swallows hard. "Please. Kronos, please. Lift me up, push me where you want me, where you'd like to see me, and fuck me, please, Kronos. I need you."

"That's it," Kronos growls, lifting Methos up so he can get his cock lined up, "that's _precisely_ it." Methos begging. There's nothing more beautiful. Unless it's the hot velvet feel of Methos's arse opening to take Kronos's cock in, and the way Methos looks when Kronos bends his legs back, presses his knees to his chest so he can start all over again. Pain, sex, love in all its most sadistic forms.

It's purely sadistic and it's only for Kronos. Methos would kill anyone else who could make him beg. But Kronos is different. Kronos is his brother. And Kronos hasn't told him he can be quiet, so he keep begging, words coming so quickly that even he doesn't understand what he's saying.

"//Shhh.//" Kronos reaches up, puts a finger across Methos's lips. "//When I tell you, you're going to come for me. You're not going to make a sound while you do.//"

Methos nods. _Yes, brother._ Damn him. Methos opens his mouth and licks Kronos' finger.

"Good," Kronos whispers, and then he's fucking Methos in earnest, that hand wrapped around Methos's cock and stroking him off in time with his thrusts. It's not meant to be easy. It's hard enough it hurts Kronos, too. But it's going to be gorgeous by the time it's over.

Methos can feel himself tear, but he doesn't scream. He can't. He tries, but no sound comes out. _Damn him._ He wants to demand the right to orgasm, but he can't. All he can do is try not to shudder too hard.

The gritted-teeth, almost-too-tight friction isn't going to let Kronos last long; he's already close, and then he's there, holding back orgasm and only barely at that. He twists his hand hard, last stroke of Methos's cock, and squeezes tight. "//Come for me.//" And just giving the order's enough to have him doing the same, groaning as his cock jerks in Methos's body.

Methos opens his mouth wide as he comes, trying to scream, his eyes closed tight. It always hurts. It always hurts when the orgasm is forced from his body like this. He remembers times when Kronos would give him the order five times in a row and his body would scream after every one.

This time once is enough. Kronos stretches out, gets the knife and cuts through the leather straps holding Methos's hands together. "Mine," he whispers, licking up the center of Methos's throat. "Brother."

"Yours," Methos replies, keeping his hands above his head. Kronos is at his neck. Kronos has a knife. Kronos could kill him right now, kill him permanently, but Methos knows he won't. His brother is the only one Methos has ever trusted and Methos would let him do whatever he wants.

It's a trust Kronos is aware of, all too aware sometimes as he keeps himself in check, keeps himself from taking advantage. "I love you," he murmurs. "You're free now."

Free. He can move now, so Methos pushes Kronos' hand away, then rolls Kronos over. "Mine, brother."

"Yours, too," Kronos says, letting Methos push him onto his back. "Always."

Always is a very long time. Methos kisses Kronos' neck then moves up to kiss him hard on the lips.

Kronos wraps his arms around Methos's shoulders, kissing back with every bit as much ferocity. Always never seems like long enough, even for an Immortal.

Methos grinds his cock against Kronos' hip and pulls back. He smirks. "It's past dawn, brother. I think the slaves need some guidance."

"Then go and guide them." Kronos gives Methos an innocent look. "You don't expect me to get up, do you? I'm quite comfortable here after all that."

"Are you?" Methos runs his fingers down Kronos' chest. "Such a pity, when age catches up to you like that. Soon I'll have to have someone else beat your slaves for you."

"Will you do it for me, brother? While I'm watching?" Kronos licks his lips. "I'd like that."

"You'd have to get up first. I'm not beating anyone in here who isn't you." Methos takes Kronos' cock in his hand. "You could stand to the side and have a slave's mouth on your cock at the same time."

Kronos thrusts up, groaning softly. "You're full of good ideas this morning."

"I always am." Methos pinches Kronos' foreskin. "You love me for it."

Hissing in a breath -- Methos is the only person Kronos has ever known who could pinch foreskin hard enough to leave a bruise -- Kronos nods. "Of course I do," he murmurs. "You're smart and sadistic and have a wicked sense of humor. What's not to love?"

"Nothing." Methos loves the way Kronos always reacts to the pinch. He rubs the head of Kronos' cock and then pinches his foreskin again. "You love me."

"Yes," Kronos whispers, stretching out and then lacing his hands behind his neck. "Is that surprising, when you take orders so beautifully and you give pain so well?"

"No." It's not surprising at all. He knows Kronos and he knows what Kronos likes, what Kronos needs. Methos fills all the gaps. "I haven't been surprised by you in centuries."

"Then it's fortunate for me that you don't mind my predictability," Kronos smirks. He's too full of hubris to see predictability as a drawback.

"Mind it?" Methos licks his lips. "I relish it, dear brother. I always know exactly what you are going to do, and when."

"And yet you stay," Kronos says, reaching out and stroking Methos's throat. "You'll always stay."

_Because it's so easy to make you do what I want you to._ But Methos just smiles. "Of course. I will always stay."

_-end-_


End file.
